


Recorda Moriri Non Sinat

by xenolinguist



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Gracious use of Latin, Historical AU, Historical Inaccuracy, Illyrian!Ermal, Legatus!Fabrizio, M/M, MetaMoro, Roman Empire, Roman Empire AU, Roman!Fabrizio, pls cut me some slack i haven't had latin in 3 years, pls let me live History buffs i am t r y i n g
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenolinguist/pseuds/xenolinguist
Summary: The conquest of the Illyrian territories should have been unproblematic. And at first, highly esteemed Roman Legatus Fabricius really believed so, until one curly haired Illyrian renegade changed not only Fabri's plans but also world views and perhaps even his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> That was literally born out of a convo about how hot Fabri would look in Roman armor and look where it took me!
> 
> Anways, if someone out there speaks Latin like God intended to, and notices a mistake I made, please inform me! 
> 
> Now, enjoy!

The shore was visible by now at that speed, they’d reach it before noon. It was not the first time the Senate had sent him across the eastern sea, no, he had already seen the city of Spalatum and its port and palace. However, this mission took him way more southerner into the Illyrian territories. Granted, they Hellenes have taken care of the area for a significant time now but since the Roman State was flourishing at the moment, the Senate had decided upon an expansion of the Empire. After all, the hunger for new resources could never be stilled.  
  
It was promised to be a fairly easy task; while the Illyrian tribes were many, they weren’t unified in any manner and hence weak, and while the Hellenes held a strong presence on the neighbouring peninsula, they didn’t stand a chance against the military force of the Empire. Hopefully, the military’s infamous reputation would be enough to conquer the area because unnecessary bloodshed was not something the Legatus desired. Souldiers were the ones destined for their Empires, but civilians wouldn’t need to give their life as well.  
  
Lost in thoughts, the Legatus Fabricius was startled when the ship finally hit the shore, his Legion was already prepared to march. The Legatus felt the curious stares of a few nearby fishers on them. As they march over the newly explored land, the eyes of the farmer joined the fishers ones’ and the further into the countryside they got, the more people noticed their presence. At last they stopped and established camp at the gates of Apollonia, their prime destination. As they entered the city center, they once more noticed how they drew the attention of the natives whose vary faces and shy postures suggested they knew very well who just marched into their city.  
On the forum, the Legatus stood in the middle, his men positioned around him ready for whatever followed next. Citizens slowly gathered around him in both fear and curiosity of what the foreigner had to say.  
“Salvete!” The Roman began and observed the reaction of the crowd. Half of them didn’t change their expressions while the other half seemed a bit confused. Those must be the population which is unfamiliar with the Latin language then.  
The Soldier cleared his throat and continued in his mother tongue nevertheless.  
“By the orders of the Roman Senate, these lands shall become part of the Empire, more specifically under the administration of the Roman Province of Macedonia. This order has immediate effect and soon reinforcements shall arrive to establish proper bases throughout the area.”  
Multiple gasps were audible among the crowd, shock, fear and anxiety so visible on their faces. Whispers made their round, he could have sworn he heard a few words in Hellenic here and there and many people spoke hastily to each other in a language he didn’t recognise, he assumed it to be Illyrians translating his speech into their native tongues.  
“I am aware that these …..changes might displease a few of you, but I shall ask you to cooperate with us for your own sake. I would have never come here if it weren’t for my orders and truthfully speaking, I would prefer it if this day was to find a peaceful end. Bloodshed is neither necessary nor required.”  
The majority of the population nodded along to this words, some were trembling, kids clunching to their parents, some didn’t even look into his face at this point and yes, it did seem that the reputation of Rome’s might alone had secured the the colony.  
_‘Thank the Gods for that’_  
Satisfied with the way the announcement has proceeded, the Legatus was about to turn away and make his way towards the campside when he heard it. Fast steps approaching him from behind, no, _running_ towards him. He could have sworn he heard the words “I won’t bow to Rome” being whispered fiercely before Fabri turned around in the very last moment to dodge the incoming hand holding a dagger. The Legatus stepped away and took a look at his attacker. A young man whose clothes indicate Illyrian origin. He was slender and fit but physically inferior to the Roman’s own strength therefore he couldn’t have been a soldier. _’Which means he isn’t properly trained in combat either’_  
  
Fabri signalised his men to hold back, he could handle that on his own. The commander and his opponent observed each other both slowly going in circles, before the curly haired man charged once more towards the Roman. The Legatus managed to grab the hand with the dagger but was promptly attacked with the other fist. Fabri swiftly snatched the weapon out of the attacker’s hand and threw it as far as possible, before being again subjected to kicks of the Illyrian. It went on for a while but soon the younger man seemed to be tire and the experienced soldier used this opportunity to kick him straight into the stomach. His opponent winced and bend down out of reflex and that’s when Fabri slammed him to the ground.  
  
Defeated and exhausted, the Illyrian kept lying on the floor. His face displayed a certain tranquility that made you wonder if he was at peace with the consequences and was merely awaiting the final blow. But that final blow never came.  
After having caught his breath, the Legatus commanded in his hoarse voice that didn’t leave room for disagreements.  
“Put him in chains and then in the cage. Nobody is to harm him, I need to speak to him. Is that understood?”  
“Ita, domine!” the Legionnaires barked obediently before picking the captive off the the ground.  
“You are hereby charged for attempted assassination of a high ranking Roman Legatus. By courtesy of the general’s benevolence, your life has been temporarily spared until Legatus Fabricius makes his final decision on your fate. Now, move!” The captive himself seemed completely oblivious to the soldiers’ speech as he kept his eyes locked with their superior instead before being forcibly dragged away.  
  
Those eyes. Those eyes which stared not in his face but rather in his soul. Those eyes were what kept the general’s mind occupied for the next few hours as he was pacing around his tent. That man had such determination in them, and more importantly, no fear at all. The rest of the Illyrians were deadly scared to even look Fabri into his face, but this guy simply lacked that anxiety. He was so utterly unimpressed by the numbers of his troops, by the gold of his armor or by the blades of their swords. An uncommon yet intriguing phenomenon, the general admitted.  
  
And the only way to learn more about phenomenons was to study them up close and that's how the general made his way to the cage at the outskirts of the campside where he found the man sitting on the floor of the cage hunched over. Night had fallen in the meanwhile and only the torch besides the cage illuminated the sharp features of the man which weren’t covered by that mane of dark curls. Fabri’s approach didn’t go unnoticed as the captive’s head rose and black eyes met his own.  
  
_"Salve, Legatus meus."_ The Illyrian derisively hissed upon seeing his captor in front of him. So he does indeed speak Latin. Interesting.  
Said Legatus slowly approached the bars separating them. Despite the fact that he was chained and caged, the Roman felt an enormous tension between them.  
  
"Why did you attack me?"  
  
The Illyrian huffed in disbelief and shook his head.  
"Oh, I don't know, I just felt bored today! I thought ‘why not attack a Roman soldier! Should be fun!’ But maybe the fact you colonise and exploit our lands and people could have played a role too!" The man spat with such venom in his voice and such fire in his eyes that Fabricius hadn't even seen in his mortal enemies. Of course, he was aware that the Empire's politics weren't always ..... ideal, but Fabri had already spent a prolonged amount of time raging about the Senate only to come to the bitter realisation that one angry man alone wouldn’t change Rome. Now instead of racking his mind about pointless endeavours, he simply followed his orders.  
  
"I didn't mean that. You knew I was a trained soldier. You knew I had plenty of men with me. You knew there were weapons. And yet. You did it without neither hesitation nor fear. Why?"  
  
"Nobody would do it but someone had to. You cannot just sit and wait, you have to do something!" Frustration rose in the stranger’s voice and his hands twitched in anger as much as the chains would allow it. In that moment the Illyrian strangely reminded Fabricius of himself in younger years.  
  
"Even when you die in the process?"  
  
"Mindlessly obeying is already a death sentence! Disobedience is what keeps us alive, it's what forbids us to die!" the man shouted into the dark night and Fabri realised that despite physical shortcomings, this guy held enormous strength. Not often in his career had someone stunned the Legatus speechless like this and truth be told, he required some time to ponder on what he’d just heard.  
“What is your name?” The Roman tried to break the suffocating silence.  
“And why would I tell you that?”  
“Oh come on, what’s the danger in revealing your name? A few hours ago you were ready to be killed so what atrocity could I possibly do to you now knowing your name?” He was aware that suspicion clouded the Illyrian’s mind however the refusal of such a harmless request seemed almost hilarious. Similar thoughts must have crossed the captives mind because a moment later he muttered something unintelligently.  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
“ _Ermal!_ My name is Ermal. There. Happy?” He reluctantly repeated while rolling his eyes.  
“Well, I’m- “  
“The almighty and glorious Legatus Fabricius, yes, yes.” Ermal finished mockingly.  
“Almighty _and_ glorious? Why, you flatter me! Or are you just charming your way out of this situation?” The Legatus added with humour and almost laughed out loud when he spotted Ermal’s dumbfounded expression. Clearly, Ermal didn’t contemplate that high ranked generals had a sense of humour as well.  
  
However, as much as he’d like to discover more about this peculiar man that is Ermal, Fabri had to return to his tent and get ready for the day tomorrow and a few hours of sleep would be beneficial.  
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow again. Don’t run away in the meanwhile.” Okay, that may have been borderline cruel but the Roman had a feeling that it was just the right kind of banter.  
“Oh, I wouldn’t _dream_ of it, Legatus!” Ermal hollered while demonstratively tugging on the chains. His voice was perhaps loud, but he appeared to be rather incredulous that the captor would truly pull a joke like this than genuinely angry.  
Fabri turned around but before he made his way back to the campside, he looked over his shoulder.  
“Oh, and Ermal…”  
“What.”  
“Bonam noctem.”  
The Illyrian remained silent therefore Fabri parted ways at last but even with Ermal out of sight, his mind kept coming back to the things he said. Fabricius had never heard a point of view like this.  
_’Mindlessly obeying is already a death sentence.’_  
How come a renegade Illyrian trying to assassinate him intellectually rivals the great Hellenic philosophers with such ease? Not only that, Ermal had an enigmatic energy, he drew glances to himself, he was a like a fire, a light and the poor insects didn’t know any better than being attracted to him. Fabricius wouldn’t have climbed the career ladder that high if he wasn’t able to recognise beneficial opportunities, and what he saw in Ermal was raw potential.  
He decided that he would drop the charges and ask Ermal tomorrow if he’d want to pursue a career as his personal consultant for matters concerning the Illyrian colony.  
Normally, Legati were to execute enemies of the Empire immediately or if they are kept alive to enslave them. Obviously, Ermal would be given the freedom to decline the offer without persecution and in case, he’d agree, a (failed) assassin was aiding the Empire. Such unorthodox behaviour was neither expected nor favourable for a Legatus of his reputation, he could almost imagine the shock of his former superiors back in Rome if they heard about this. And yet, Fabri felt tingly and excited at the thought alone. No matter how Ermal would decide, Fabri had this feeling deep inside that tomorrow would bring some fundamental change to his life, and maybe even to the Empire.  
  
Perhaps Ermal was right after all, perhaps disobedience does keep us alive.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> salvete, amici mei!
> 
> pls leave a comment, a kudo, whatever else you have ! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ermal reluctantly makes friends, gets an offer and becomes emperor.

At the break of dawn, when the rest of Illyria was still soundly asleep, the Roman camp was already full of life. Soldiers who kept watch during the night were relieved of their guard, a few men were sent out to collect nutrition and other necessities from Apollonia and the largest group of young soldiers found themselves at the training grounds for their daily exercise with sword and shield. These growling baboons would have awaken the dead, let alone the Illyrian captive whose cage was unfortunately too close to the training grounds. Being woken up in such a crude way has already put him in a bad mood, but once he opened his eyes and registered his aching back, Ermal truly wished for Enji himself to come down from the high heavens and smite him right on the spot.  
Groaning and sleepy, he propped himself up on his elbows but soon felt the restriction of movement by the chains tying him to the bars of the cage. And then it all came back to him. The legion. The forum. The anger. His attack. His failure. The Legatus. The chains. The cage. The reason why he was here in the first place. He groaned louder this time and let himself fall back onto the hard floor to let himself process that information. So he was indeed a captive of the Roman Empire. Wonderful. Terrific. Splendid. Was there any way this could possibly get better? Oh well, yes, in fact, there was! The soldiers didn’t simply capture him as a civilian, no, they capture him for attempted assassination, so now he was a criminal and public enemy of the Empire too. _’Great.'_  
  
Ermal let his head fall to the side and observed his surroundings through the bars. Young men of impeccable physique were running left and right. Most of them were in uniforms already and were running from the countless tents scattered across the field while Apollonia’s outlines unrolled in the distance. With a heavy heart, Ermal wondered if he’d ever see his hometown from the inside again. He wasn’t even given a chance to say goodbye to his family. Guilt rushed over him at the thought of the grief that he must have caused his dear mother. Would Rinald be able to earn enough for the entire family? What would happen to Sabina? Would they give her away in marriage? With Ermal gone, who would protect them from _him_ ? Yesterday on the forum Ermal was certain that his plans were the absolute right thing to do, _they were, ethically_ , but the realisation that his actions have consequences for the ones closest to him felt like a punch into the stomach.  
  
_’Well, at least they didn’t have to see me being lynch right on the spot in front of everyone.’_ That was an admittingly minimal relief, but still a relief. Come to think of it, Ermal couldn’t quite comprehend the reason behind his prolonged survival. Last night the Legatus had approached him at last, but his attitude was not one you’d expect from someone who survived an assassination attempt. He didn’t even seem to be angry. How can you not be angry?! To Ermal’s utter surprise, the Roman appeared to be legitimately interested in the thought process that went through Ermal’s mind. _’Probably a little mind game of theirs. I wouldn’t put it past them’_. He even inquired about his name as if he cared about it and then he had the absolute audacity to joke! “Stuck-up Romans. Think they’re so above it all, think they’re soooo great.”  
  
“Try giving us a chance first, would you?” A voice commented that made Ermal jump in his skin. Besides the cage stood a tall soldier, with shining armour, a spear and hair dark as coal covering not only his head but also his face. Despite himself, the Illyrian had to admit the soldier carried a certain kindness in his eyes. If he weren’t the enemy, Ermal would say, he looked likeable.  
“Is there a reason you’re talking to me?”  
Instead of answering, the bearded man unlocked the cage and untied the chains from the bar. Ermal, whose hands were still chained had no choice but to follow suit like a dog on a leash.  
“Where are you bringing me?” The curly haired man demanded to know while they were traversing the camp, the eyes of the other Romans followed him. Some seemed curious, some suspicious, all of them condescending.  
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll see soon enough.” The friendly tone of the soldier only managed to agitate Ermal more. Was that another mind game of theirs? It surely must be. First they keep him alive for no foreseeable reason, then they are deporting him to an unknown location, but mask that with an agreeable tone. Their aim is to give you hope and then crush it with a sword in your stomach or a dagger in your throat.  
  
Soon enough they stopped in front of a tent. No, not any tent. This tent was significantly larger than the others’ ones, was crafted out of maroon coloured leather and decorated with fine golden details. Above the entrace, the four letter were sewed on with the finest golden strand. _S.P.Q.R._. No other four letters in this world carried such power that the sight alone made people tremble. Outside the accomodation, several heavy armed guards were positioned around the tent who kept observing him. Before Ermal could even think of what they were waiting for, the bearded soldier unchained him and gestured towards the entrance of the tent.  
“Here you go!”  
“W-what’s happening now?” He couldn’t keep that betraying anxiety out of his voice. This all didn’t seem right to him and certainly isn’t what was supposed to happen. Damn those Romans with their games again!  
“What do you mean ‘what’s happening’? The Legatus requested to speak to you,of course! Now go, you don’t want to keep him waiting!” The tall man gave him a good-natured push towards the curtains past the guards, who frankly looked terrifying.  
_’So then he truly meant to speak to me today…’_ The Illyrian recalled the events of the night before and how sceptic he was about the Legatus’ statement. 

Ermal carefully pushed the curtains to the side and slowly entered the spacious tent. The thick leather prevented sunlight to shine through, hence the only source of light in the dimmed space were the oil lamps. Nevertheless, his vision was good enough to immediately spot the massive table carved out of dark mahogany that stood proudly in the center. On top of the table was a map of the Roman Empire with its neighbouring regions attached, which was certainly used to prepare strategies and warfare. Moving more inside, he felt almost overwhelmed by all the decoration that simultaneously drew his attention. A large number of papyrus scrolls stretched across the room on several piles, the floor was covered by rugs of the most beautiful violet shades and the most intricate details that left no doubt that they are examples of the high Phoenician art. The walls were filled with huge, magnificent shields, but not even their gold or pattern could have masked the indentations and bumps that the numerous battles had inflicted upon them. Left from the war table was a bed of a such high value Ermal had never had the privilege to see let alone sleep in. _'I bet you don’t get any back pain when you sleep in that thing.'_  
  
But it was not just the bed that made this section of the tent have a different energy. Three sets of armor were positioned beside the bed, all three heavier and sturdier than the ones of the foot soldiers, all three also showing signs of being well worn. They were admittedly aesthetic armor. They were simply beautiful. Without thinking about it, Ermal approached the armor to take a closer look. After all, how many Illyrians could claim to have seen Roman armor from up close?  
The chest piece was made what appeared to be gilded metal, thick and formed in a way that it would perfectly suit the body of the soldier underneath it. The torso was tinted in a light, almost white golden colour that marvelously contrasted strong gold of the decoration and details of the armor. His fingers carefully traced the two golden figures inwrought upon stomach area. They were both the same person, a woman with wings, just facing the opposite directions, and if he remembered correctly, that must be their Goddess of Victory. The torso piece ended with in a golden edge and below it, a sort of belt peaked through. However, it wasn’t a simple belt, several leather strips hung down from the main belt, each of them decorated with metal fittings and a pendant at the ends. He took the stripes into his hands. It certainly didn’t hold the tunic up and it was way too light to be used as proper protection, so what was the purpose of it then?  
  
“The Cingulum serves as a marker of rank.”  
A cold shiver ran over his back and his entire body when he registered the hoarse voice behind him. In all his mesmerisation with the armor, Ermal didn’t even notice the other person on the right side of the tent. Yet there he had been all this time. Legatus Fabricius who was casually leaning back in his chair and who had silently observed him with a lazy gaze.  
  
“Only high ranking officials are to wear the Cingulum to show their status, but apart from that, it’s basically useless.”  
How the Roman guessed so precisely what went through Ermal’s mind was beyond him and that momentary shock must have been visible as it was Fabricius who yet again initiated the conversation.  
  
“Come on, sit. I need to talk to you.” The general waved towards the small sitting area he was currently occupying. Ermal cautiously took a seat opposite of the tanned man. In contrary to last night, the Legatus was wearing a breezy tunic with a wide open neckline whose colour almost matched the maroon of the tent. In such casual clothes Ermal was shocked to see the inked skin of the general and would probably kept staring at his arms if he didn’t remember why he sitting here in the first place.  
  
“I worked alone. There are no other accomplices, I have no idea if my sentiment is shared with rest of the city.”  
“I ..didn’t ask any questions yet.”  
“Not yet, but you would have. So I’ll spare you efford of sniffing around Apollonia and harassing innocent people.” The general seemed taken aback by his crude statement. Taken aback, but not angry or offended however.  
“How come you have mastered the Latin tongue?”  
“I am a script for a Hellenic scholar in Apollonia. Master is dealing with the purchase and sale of various rolls and books. My assignments are usually to keep correspondence with the customers, contact new sellers and sometimes even read the pieces myself to verify if they’re indeed what we ordered. His clientele reaches the utmost borders of our known world. It would have disadvantageous, if not downright foolish to disregard the Roman customers and yes, therefore Latin seemed like the logical next step.”  
“So I assume you are skilled in the Hellenic parlance as well?”  
“I mean, who isn’t these days? If you have any business with the outside world, Hellenic is a given.”  
“...If you say so.“ The Legatus cleared his throat before slowly leaning forward in an attempt to establish a better eye contact with his conversation partner. His gaze felt intense and Ermal was curious or more nervous what he had planned to tell him. Enslavement was a likely option. After all, that’s the standard procedure for prisoners of the Empire. He felt sick at the thought and tried to brace himself for the worst, but what he heard next didn’t quite match with what he expected.  
  
“Look, it goes without saying that your mind is exceptional. Perhaps a bit hot-headed, but that’s nothing I couldn’t relate to if I’m honest. I know, you detest this idea of the Empire, of us, of me. But that hatred, that passion, stems from a place of love, love for your home. It is crucial for you to understand that I genuinely cannot do anything to stop the Senate’s decision to annex the area. If I tell the Senate I won’t go through with the annexation, they’ll simply kill me and give the authority over the region to someone who will do the job. Illyria _will_ become a part of the Empire."  
****  
So he wasn’t declared a slave for life yet, but this new piece of information didn’t really ease his mind in the slightest. Fabricius words made sense, they were logical even to Ermal and a deep rooted voice in him was telling him that Fabricius was also earnest here, which made it only worse.  
  
“However, you don’t have to entirely put up with it, you surely don’t seem to be the type to anyway.” The Roman smirked and Illyrian was yet again left dumbfounded.  
“Explain.”  
“What if you could influence the direction the Senate will take with Illyria. What if you cannot free Illyria, but you can prevent that the worst things happen?”  
“Continue”  
“You’d carry out the function of being my personal consultant on matter of the colony. I am the Legate of the area, however I’m admittingly barely knowledgeable about it. You on the other hand…. Let’s assume, the Senate dictates a huge tax on cattle, but you know the locals desperately need those for survival. You inform me about that, we make a plan, for example; instead of taxing cattle, iron should be taxed as there is more of it on demand and present the alternative to the Senate in a way that makes it seem beneficial for the Empire.”  
  
Ermal went from almost-maybe-surely-slave for life to almost-maybe-possibly consultant for the Empire within a minute. That was a lot to take in. But how could he? Working _for_ the Empire? Betraying his own people? That went against everything he stood for, everything he believed in and everything he was ready to die for yesterday. Nevertheless, there was reason in the Fabricius’ argumentation. In such a unique position, Ermal had to power to represent Illyrians and their struggles like no one else could and the fact that Fabricius was apparently actively working for the good of the colony was an immeasurable advantage. The Gods know what mayhem other legati would mercilessly bring to these lands.  
  
“...What if I decline?”  
“Then you are free to go. I won’t kill you, you are too smart for that, it would be a waste, but neither will I enslave you, that is just something I cannot bring myself to do.”  
“So let me get this straight: I try to ram a dagger into your throat and now you are just gonna let me walk out if it pleases me?”  
“Look, we kind of established that you aren’t a real danger to me in a fight, alright? What’s the worst you could do? Hug me to death?”  
“H-Hey dammit I- “ Ermal huffed indignantly but was only met buy a soft laugh of his counterpart.  
  
“I know this offer requires a lot of contemplation and is ethically challenging for you, so why don’t you stay in at our campsite for the day and deliver me your decision in the evening? I’m just asking you to properly give it a thought for a few hours. And before you ask, no, you won’t be chained and can retreat in a tent if you wish to. I suppose after having had this conversation like civilised people, the cage won’t be necessary anymore.”  
“Under the condition that your troops won’t harass me and that I’ll actually get food or water any time soon, I suppose I could stick around for a few hours.”  
  
“Excellent!” Fabricius got up and instinctively Ermal did the same. The Legatus quickly went outside, Ermal heard his voice and a few other voices but he couldn't quite make out what was being discussed but then he reentered the tent.  
“Now I would gladly spend some more time conversing with you, Ermal, but unfortunately, I still have some letters to write.”  
“You could just say I should get lost already, you know. I’m not a fragile flower who will burst out in tears.”  
“By the Gods, Ermal, if you were a flower, you’d be a thorny rose for sure.” The general joked again. Really, since when do Legati joke? Aren’t they supposed to be brutal beasts of war instead?  
At last, Ermal stepped out of the Legatus’ tent and was faced with another soldier apparently waiting for him. He was tall, sturdy and his hair was dark as his eyes.  
“You must be the Illyrian then. Salve, I’ll be escorting you the tent we share and provide food if you want.”  
“Well, salve to you too. I don’t know how you Romans are raised but on this peninsula you first off say your name when you meet someone new. Therefore, I’m Ermal and not _‘the Illyrian’_ , okay?” To hell with it. If he already signed up to spend the day here and got his own personal babysitter, Ermal at least expected to be treated like an actual person then.  
Bashfully, the soldier rubbed the back of his head. “My apologies,you’re right. You can call me Marco.” Marco began leading the way to their accommodation while the two of them walked in somewhat awkward silence. Once they reached their small tent, Marco regarded him uncomfortably.  
“So….. “  
“....Yes, Marco?”  
“.....You tried killing the general.”  
The Illyrian groaned annoyed. “Okay, no offense but what’s the matter with you? Have you ever initiated a conversation with another human before?”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but sharing my tent with a failed assassin isn’t exactly an everyday situation!”  
Was it too late to ask the Legatus to execute him?  
“Just- just give me some damn food alright!”  
They make their way to the fireplace where Ermal was given some vegetables and meat. Some food at last. Marco, once Ermal had assured him he couldn’t possibly have smuggled a dagger into the camp under his tunic to lynch him in his sleep, became rather chatty and again, Ermal had to admit, he was rather good company. Alright, maybe not ‘good’, but he wasn’t despicable. The afternoon passed with Marco showing him around the camp, at one point Ermal even spotted the bearded soldier from this morning who in turn waved to Ermal. By now, the sun was slowly setting and they still made their rounds. Marco told him he hailed from the region of Aemilia on the Italic peninsula, had been in the imperial army for a while now and that this was his first trip overseas. After having spoken about his own life and career, Marco suddenly glanced at him strangely “You really speak Hellenic?”  
“What is this with you people- yes, of course I do. Why, do you?”  
“No, it’s not _me_ who speaks it.” He got a distant look on his face, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely.  
“Then who does?”  
But before his question received an answer, a few soldiers urgently pushed passed them. In fact, multiple soldiers seemed to gather at the outskirts of the camp and the noise of many distressed voices was audible.  
“What’s happening?”  
“I’m not sure, I should probably check. Wait here.” With quick steps Marco joined the turmoil and Ermal was left there alone. It would probably be settled soon. Most likely two soldiers who got into a fist fight over some minor thing.  
Nevertheless, the crowd just wouldn’t dissolve and even from afar jerky movements were noticeable. No, it’s none of your business, Ermal, just look away. He wandered a bit further away when suddenly a familiar face crossed his path.  
“Salve, Ermal! How did you like your day at our camp?” Legatus Fabricius made it out of his tent at last. He had a lazy smile on his face but truth be told, he seemed quite tired. Perhaps he really did really have a lot of correspondence to keep up and other bureaucratic matters to take care of.  
“What can I say. I got food _and_ a bed? The Imperator’s got nothing on me.”  
Surprisingly, the Legatus bursted out laughing which immediately made him look less tired.  
“I must apologise, I was not aware that I was in such prestigious company, Imperator Ermal.” The newly crowned emperor couldn’t help but grin at the remark.  
“Today I feel extraordinarily generous, so you shall be forgiven, Legatus.”  
Before the Fabricius could continue their little banter, a scream tore their attention to the crowd of soldiers at the outskirts. All humour vanished from the general’s face and was replaced by a grim and worried expression.  
“Something happened.”  
“It’s probably just a fist fight.”  
“No, Ermal. This was a female screaming. There are no women in this Legion.”  
  
The Legatus sprinted towards the scene of the incident and a now alarmed Ermal followed him suit.  
“Move aside, I said move aside. What is going on here? Damn it, what’s going on?” Fabricius hotly demanded as he pushed through his soldiers and what he saw when he reached the the center were two foot soldiers both restraining a person from each side who tried free themselves at all cost. That person was as presumed a woman and despite her lean built, she went completely berserk as she kicked and screamed and tried to bite even the soldiers. A fierce if not desperate soul, indeed. “Calm down, alright.” The Roman tried to get the situation under control. “What has happened?! Who is she?!”  
None of his men explained and it was Ermal’s weak, if not downright shocked, voice that finally whispered.  
  
  
“Sabina.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salvete!
> 
> So first off, we love the best brotp of the century Ermal & Marco!!  
> Then, who do you think our bearded friend was?  
> last but not least, what other thoughts did you have? 
> 
> BTW: Enji = Illyrian God of Fire and War


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we witness the historic moment when Sabina Meta invented Big Dick Energy.

“Sabina.”

The word resonated in the small area and once they reached the woman's ears, she momentarily stopped in her tracks and looked up in shock. The crowd fell silent when their gazes met and her eyes started to tear up.  
“Ermal? Ermal! Oh zot tim!”  
She once more tried to jerk herself out of the soldiers’ grip, and despite the tears a weak smile appeared on her face.  
“Sabina, çfarë po bën këtu?!” Slightly trembling and heavy breathing, the man turned to Fabricius.  
“Release her, please!”  
“You know her?”  
“She's my little sister! I'm begging you, Legatus!” Gone were the banters and carefreeness and only a painful urgency and despair remained.  
  
The general signalised his men to let her go and once freed, the young woman ran into her brother's arms with such force that she almost knocked him over. Sabina cried into her brother's chest and clung to him for dear life. Ermal seemed to finally have found the strength to breath again. Seeing the two of them,a vague memory of Romina after the return from his first big battle came to Fabricius' mind. His heart ached at the memory and tried to suppress it. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters. In the army, it never was.  
  
“Ermal, a bënë diçka për ty? A jeni lënduar?”  
“Jo, mos u shqetëso, jam mirë.”  
“As much as it fills me with joy to see a family reunion, I would like to know what happened in the past hour here. Gaius, report!”  
One of the soldiers who restrained her explained. “We were doing our rounds, when we spotted her lurking around the cages, Legatus. She ignored our inquiry about what she wanted and kept searching the area. We attempted to drag her out of the camp but that’s when she refused to go and gradually became aggressive.”  
  
They always tell you in the military to expect the unexpected. But where were the instructions on how to handle the intrusion and assault by the sister of your ~~consultant? No~~ ~~Illyrian? Nah~~ ~~captive? No no no!~~ _Ermal._ The sister of your Ermal.  
  
The Legatus massaged his temples and sighed. “Ermal, please ask her what the meaning of all of this is.”

“I can speak for myself.” The Illyrian woman herself addressed him now. Her speech was accented and not as fluid as her brother's, but her voice carried dignity and if he wasn't mistaken, even a grain of disdain. Clearly disrespecting Romans was a family trait.  
  
“Then I shall hear it from you directly.”  
“I had to see what you have done to my brother. I had to know if I could say goodbye one last time or if it was already too late. Not knowing is fate,I couldn't bare it anymore. I needed certainty.”  
  
“And when you saw the empty cage you assumed..”  
  
“I assumed you already did to him what you vile people always do to your prisoners, yes.”  
  
“Sabina!” Scandalised by her words, Ermal pushed his sister behind him. Funny, Fabri reckoned, how he never is shocked about his own statements like these. “Legatus Fabricius, I apologize on her behalf, she is young and youthful imprudence clouds the mind, she didn't mean it like that.”  
  
And that was the first time, Fabricius saw genuine fear in Ermal. In their face-off, he was nonchalant, in his tent he was nervous at most. But the possibility of his sister being in danger rang all alarm bells. Selfless, Fabri mused.  
  
Ignoring Sabina’s rudeness, it was partially justified after all, Fabri spoke.  
“Ermal, why don’t you take your sister to the campfire. I’m sure she must be thirsty and you two certainly have things to discuss.”  
Not wasting a second, Ermal nodded and took his sibling by the hand to make his way to the campfire.  
  
The general was about to return to his accomodation when an arm was swung over his shoulders.  
“Two days in the new province and it looks like Fortuna turned her back on us completely.”  
Claudio, one of his high ranking soldiers, joked as he accompanied him. To be fair, he and Claudio had served so long together that Fabri considered him a friend, perhaps a rarity in the armed forces.  
“So his sister?”  
“Yes” The general sat down once inside. “She was worried what might have happened to him.”  
His friend chuckled amused.  
“I have to say, she had more fighting spirit than many of our soldiers.”  
“I've always told you, Claudio. For the sake of their loved ones, some women could rival Mars on the battlefield. The fact that the Senate isn't recruiting them into the military is an immeasurable loss.” He’d have experience with enough strong willed women to personally testify that for sure.  
  
“I certainly hope for you your concubinus is worth all these inconveniences.”  
  
“He- he isn't my concubinus.”  
  
“Not? But- ?” It wasn’t the first time Fabri felt critical about their society. Why must he kill their subjects? And if not killed, why must he enslave them? And even if enslaved, why was giving in to physical cravings the first thing he was expected to do? How one could look at Ermal and not be mesmerised by his mind rather than his body was beyond Fabri anyway.  
  
“Look, don't worry about Ermal, that's my job. Tell me rather about the troops that are arriving tomorrow.”  
That put his friend back on track and the soldier explained.  
“There are two troops arriving on the southern shore, they’ll make their way to the southern part bordering Hellenic territories. Hopefully, it won’t escalate with the new neighbours. Another one will settle close from here, further east. Our scouts reported to have seen grain fields close to the new camp location. A river might also be nearby. However, there are also farmers all across that area so that’ll be a bit tricky.”  
“Farmers mean steady supply of food. They can be negotiated with.”  
“True, true.” Claudio nodded in agreement before a yawn escaped him.  
“I’ll have to rest now. You should sleep too, Fabri. The Gods know you need it.”  
  
As Claudio was leaving the tent he pumped into a curly haired person. Said curly head barely registered him as he went straight to the Legatus.  
  
  
“Legatus, I come with a plea.”

* * *

  


Once Sabina took a seat at the campfire, Ermal handed her the jug of water. He sensed the glances of the others upon him and the unusual intruder and even spotted Marco's worried expression.  
  
“Drink some, you'll feel better.”  
She took a sip and they both fell silent for a while with the only background noises being the crackling fire.  
  
“Are they gonna execute you?”  
“You get straight to the point, huh.” Which was apparently the exact wrong thing to say.  
  
“By the Gods, Ermal, mother hasn't stopped crying since they took you! She at least deserves to be informed if she should prepare herself to mourn you or not.”  
“And the best way to verify my status is to simply waltz into the Roman camp like it's the marketplace? All alone? And then start a fight with soldiers? Armed soldier may I add. Sabina, they could have killed you!”  
“When I saw the cage empty, I thought the worst, alright! The thought of you- I just lost my mind okay!”  
“But I'm not dead, you see me, you hear me. I'm alive and won't be executed.” He grabbed his sister’s shoulder to emphasize his point, she swallowed hard and directed her gaze back at the fire.  
  
“So what is the situation? Are you a slave now? Are they shipping you to Rome?”  
“No, I'm not slave. They- the Legatus offered me a position as his consultant. He wanted to give me some time to think about the offer and that's why I remained.”  
A humourless huff escaped Sabina.  
“I don't know what's more bizarre: him offering you a job after what you did or the image of you working for the Roman army.”  
  
“First of all, be glad Fabricius’ is as laid-back as he is. For the way you lashed out on him earlier, another Legatus would have you hanged instantly. Also, I didn't accept the offer yet.”  
  
“Yet.”  
The implication didn’t go unnoticed by Ermal and despite the urge to argue with her about it, Ermal felt simply tired at this point. They remained in an awkward, tense silence where neither of them would look at each other and neither knew how to proceed from here. Thankfully, their suffering was ended by two familiar men approaching.  
“Hey, uhm, you want an apple?” Marco stretched his arm towards the siblings. In his hand a jar with apples inside.  
“You should try them, they’re really good.” The bearded soldier chimed in.  
Sabina watched the soldiers as if Cerberus himself stood in front of her.  
_‘They’re harmless.’_ whispered her brother in their native tongue.  
She cautiously took a piece of apple out of the jar.  
“Thank...you?”  
“No problem. We saw you had a.. uhm.. hard time earlier, and thought nothing calms one down better than a little snack. I'm Marco by the way.”  
“I'm Bernandinus, but most guys here call me Dino.”  
  
_Dino_. Good, now Ermal could stop calling him 'bearded soldier’ in his mind.  
  
“I'm not sure how you Illyrians do it, but my father back home taught me to pickle the apples in wine. It is something of a family tradition.” explained Marco.  
“Well, our father certainly doesn’t do that. He wasn’t even that concerned about Ermal, he didn’t even let me out tonight to look for him.” Sabina mused.  
“Wait what?”  
“He wouldn't let me out so I sneaked out.”  
“You…Sabina….No,no,no,no how can you be so naive!” Ermal groaned. This was beyond terrible. “Do you know what will happen if you go home now?”  
“I’m not naive, okay! I knew-  
“And yet you still went looking for me?!”  
“Yes!” Her outburst stunned him into silence. She’d always be his little sister, but at times like these he was reminded that she wasn’t a child anymore.  
  
Ermal abruptly got up.  
“Marco, Dino, watch out for my sister. Sabina, behave.”  
Before she could protest or ask questions, he ran off. There was one last chance he could save the situation.  
As Ermal entered the tent, he pumped into someone. Who? Irrelevant. He had more pressing matters to take care of.  
“Legatus, I come with a plea.” He announced.  
  
“Yes, Ermal?”  
So there goes nothing. Ermal fell down on his knees in front to the general at once, startling the other man.  
“Let my sister remain on the campsite, please. I know this isn't common, but we cannot send her back home.”  
  
“Your sis- “  
  
“She sneaked out. People saw her going to the Roman camp. An unmarried woman walking alone to the Roman camp after dark. That will cause rumours, rumours that our father- Gods, our father! He- I can't imagine what wrath he'll unleash upon her! Please, Legatus, I'll accept your offer even. I'll be your consultant, even your slave if you want me to, but just grant my sister protection.”  
  
The Legatus leaned back and let the new information circle in his head. Letting Sabina stay at the camp. How could he explain the presence of a woman, neither slave nor Roman, on his campsite? It would be complicated enough to have Ermal stick around, let alone another person without any profitable reason. But goddamn, looking into Ermal’s pleading eyes, the way his voice trembled by the mention of his father. Logistics be damned, deep down he knew, he couldn’t justify it to himself if he let an innocent woman be harmed like that.  
“Very well.”  
“Huh?”  
“Get up, Ermal.”  
Fabricius led the way and a confused Ermal tagged along.  
“W-wait, is she staying now or not? Legatus, dammit!”  
The trio at the campfire has virtually remained on the same spots, but were now engaged in a heated discussion.  
“-holds longer! Come on, figs in vinegar could outlast wars!”  
“No way! Honey is the best when it comes to fruit preservation. Pretty sure we have pickled apples at home that are older than Ermal.”  
“Can you guys just enjoy the damn fruits and stop arguing?” Marco pleaded exasperated, before all conversation among the three was halted when they noticed the new arrivals.  
  
The Legatus had his eyes on the woman in question. “Sabina. You seem to be knowledgeable about cookery.”  
“I… suppose so.”  
“Y’know, we aren’t familiar with the local food products and how to make the best out of them, also our soldiers really have to focus on their exercises and cannot spare time to cook. Would you mind giving us a hand in this unfortunate situation?”  
Her eyes widened when she realised what he implied, she disbelievingly glanced to her brother who only gave her a hard stare as if to say _’Don’t you dare say something stupid now, I bargained that for you.’_  
“I guess, I could, yes. I- thank you, Legatus.”  
“You should get your own tent though. Dino, you wouldn’t mind giving yours up? Maybe Marco could grant you shelter in his tent as well.”  
Marco nodded obediently but his face silently screamed ‘Oh no, now there are two of them.’  
  
The night had fallen by now and truthfully, the general should get ready return to his tent. “Ermal, a word, please.” As they were traversing the field, the Roman spoke. “Tomorrow new troops are expected to arrive. One group in particular is supposed to settle in the east of Apollonia where the grain fields lie. I want you to accompany us tomorrow. We could establish trade with the local farmers and maybe you know of other resources in the area.”  
The Illyrian nooded. “Sure.” His companion seemed deeply lost in thoughts while they continued their walk until they reached the general’s accommodation.  
  
“Thank you, by the way.” He whispered so softly that there was no doubt about what he was referring to.  
“Don’t mention it. We probably would have needed someone to take care of nutrition anyway.”  
“Well, yes, your dishes _are_ awfully dull, even for military standards.” And there he was. The real Ermal. The snarky Ermal who just couldn’t pass the opportunity for a jab at them. Fabricius felt relieved.  
“Fear not, Imperator. Tomorrow I shall task my men to catch the most exquisite fish and to collect the most exotic spices for your fine tastes. Nothing but the best for you, Your Highness.”  
And as the moon light shone on them, the Roman saw with delight how that serious face of the Illyrian finally transformed into a relaxed smile. Tonight took a toll on both of them, but on Ermal especially, it was good too see him feel better again.  
  
When Fabri yawned, he knew it was definitely time to sleep now.  
“I better retreat now. We have a long day tomorrow ahead of us.”  
“Yes, indeed.”  
The general was just about to push through the curtains of his tent when he heard Ermal’s voice once more.  
  
“Oh, Legatus…”  
“Yes?”  
“Bonam noctem.”  
  
And with that his new consultant disappeared, the moonlight reflecting on his dark curls. Fabri looked long after him and wondered when the last time was someone wished him a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salvete!
> 
> any thoughts, comments, feelings?


End file.
